


Illusions

by abderian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fame, M/M, Rock Stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abderian/pseuds/abderian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuds always gained media attention, especially when the animosty between two of musics hottest acts is so real its tangible. Harry is rock royalty, having clawed his way to the top with sheer determination and a string of broken hearts. Niall is pops newest prince, and Harry despises the fact that the Irish boy got fame without having to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusions

The thick strings pulled against his soft skin, leaving them worn and bloody, but the teen just determinedly ignored the pain, looking for the next chord. He wanted this, he wanted to pour his soul into music, and the calluses he was slowly building up was nothing short of proof that he would achieve his dream. He could hear the tick of the clock during the pause in his session, letting him know that although the music seemed to transport him beyond this realm, time still ticked, and he had wasted yet another day hunched over the guitar in his room.

The lyrics patterned the paper, speaking truthfully but also shallowly. Harry sighed, he couldn’t hope to transcend the typical musicians and make it big if he couldn’t find the lyrics to touch the heart. He knew it was because he was so young, because he lacked the life experience, but still it annoyed him that he could write, it was just meaningless.

It was at that point he decided he needed to live more, parties on the weekend suddenly became a necessity and the girls that fluttered their eyes as he ambled past them in the corridor at school became conquests, a means to learn love and heartbreak and even lust and hatred. Life was just a game where he could learn the cheats he needed to reach the final level – fame.

The stingy little pubs that let him in, even though he was underage, and watched cigarettes dangling from their fingers as he set up on the tiny wooden stage, with only the promise of a few petty pounds and a couple shots that gave him the liquid courage to perform to the rowdy crowd.

It was at one of these gigs he got the scar that was hidden by his long curls, a winding gash just behind his ear. A loose beer bottle had crashed against his head. Harry had only heard stories about what truly happened, because when he came too he was heaped in a dingy back room, with the owner counting out his pay and the gruff affirmation that the lad probably should get himself checked out at a hospital.

By the time he was eighteen, Harry was a frequent at the pubs all across the local county, slowly building a name for himself for his mix of brashness, tenacity, soulfulness and pure talent. He would perform, having long mastered the art of encapsulating a crowd, and spend the rest of the night downing drinks, looking for an easy hook-up with one of the many drunken sluts that would frequent the joints. He was eighteen when he was finally ‘discovered’ by a talent agent, who saw a pretty boy with smouldering green eyes and the gentle curls of a lost soul. A talent agent who saw a bad boy, drinking and smoking his way to an early grave and leaving a trail of broken hearts. A talent agent who saw a flashback to the rock star lifestyles of the eighties. A talent agent who saw a star waiting to be set alight.

And Harry, he saw what he always craved – fame.

xXx

Sunlight filtered through the half-mast blinds, causing Harry to wince away from the brightness. Slowly the pounding hangover became bearable and he allowed himself to squint at his surroundings.  He was in a hotel, probably 3 stars if he was to judge off the thread of the linen and décor. That was both bad and good, because it meant it wasn’t his own 5 star hotel room.

Rubbing his hands over his eyes, his vision finally cleared enough to see the ginger hair splayed over the pillow, and the attractive girl who was asleep, fingers curled around the air just centimetres from where his hand had been laying. Harry groaned, having sex was pointless if he couldn’t remember it, but at the moment the night before was a complete blur, which meant he had to get out before she woke up, and just hope she was as fucked in the head from the night before as he was.

With a skilled practice he slipped from the bed without disturbing the sheets, before gathering up his clothes from the places they had been tossed during the fevered undressing last night. He lifted his shoes up to his eyes, letting out a frustrated groan as he realised his favourite boots were scuffed and alcohol stained.

His bare feet padded across the linoleum and as stopped in the kitchen to pour himself a quick glass of water, fishing his phone out his jacket pocket, pinching his nose when he saw the plethora of missed calls, most of them from his manager.

Ray bans on head ducked, he walked out the door, eyes flickering behind the shades trying to make sure no paparazzi caught his walk of shame. The gentle breeze kissed his cheeks as he hit redial, phone held to his ear as he continued to walk, looking for any sign to indicate where the hell he was.

“Mr Styles, so glad you could find the time to call me back.” The snarky tone of his manager made Harry frown. Usually the guy was pretty easy going, even encouraging Harry’s partying lifestyle simply cause the record label demanded it, the bad boy image a media junket for his popularity.

“Sorry Louis, I was with a girl and I lost track of time…”

“I know you were with a girl, I’m not stupid. You are though, get back to your hotel ASAP.”

Harry rubbed his forehead, finally spotting a street sign in the distance and letting out an audible sigh of relief. “Why?”

It was almost as though he could see the vein pulsing in Louis’ forehead. “Because you have to attend the premiere of This Is Us tonight, its being touted as the latest cinematic masterpiece and if Mr Styles isn’t photographed at the event, that fucking blond upstart Horan will get all the attention.”

Immediately Harry snapped to attention. “Horan will be there?”

“Yes, and the media is waiting like dogs for the latest feud between rock royalty and the pop prince.”

Pop’s newest prince was everything that Harry was not. Blond and innocent, even though they were the same age, the other teenager had a squeaky clean image that had parents in as much of an uproar as his squealing fangirls. Harry doubted the other boy had so much as touched a drop of alcohol, choked on his own smoke, and he sure as hell hadn’t had sex. But that wasn’t the real issue. Horan and him were under the same record label who had decided that a feud between the two would only increase the other’s popularity and sales. And Harry was too happy to oblige. Niall was nothing but an upstart who had gotten famous without the real effort. There was no way that the pretty boy had trawled the pub scene waiting for his big break, and it pissed Harry off that this Irish twat had been given the fame that he had worked his arse off for.

“I’ll be there.” Harry’s voice was determined, underlined with a slight fire before he halted, “Could you send a car out the pick me up though?” Harry told Louis where he was, and his much abused manager sighed, griping about how Harry had managed to get so far out of the way, before telling him to sit tight, a car was on the way.

xXx

Among the flashing cameras and the flurried paparazzi, Harry almost missed the whispered taunt as the smaller boy brushed past his back.

“Congratulations on your newest endorsement. I’m sure Zovirax are pleased to have celebrity endorsement for its herpes cream.”

The jibe was silent, something that Harry was thankful for, because he didn’t need the boundless press at the premiere to run a story based on a fact less rumour, but it didn’t stop his spine from going ramrod straight, his jaw clenching and his fingers twitching at the laughing Irish tone.

His fingers darted out, and managed to clasp onto the other boy’s jacket, causing Niall to spin around, blue eyes narrowed and stormy behind those stupid frames he didn’t need to wear, lips turned into a slight snarl. But his lips quickly turned upward and his eyes became wide and innocent, as he pulled Harry into a hug.

The journalists went crazy, flashes capturing the moment with an image that spoke more than words, even if the stories the pictures told were lies.

Niall turned his head into Harry’s shoulder, fingers bunching at the expensive leather jacket, while Harry leaned in close, allowing the scent of Niall’s aftershave to fill his nose.

“For the record I don’t have any STI’s but at least I’ve had sex you fucking virgin.”

“I’d hardly be a virgin if I was fucking.” Niall replied snidely, though the grin never left his face as he pulled away from Harry, although their hands remained on each other’s backs, smiles wide, and eyes pointedly glaring at each other.

“See you at the after party, Harold.” And with that Niall was gone, leaving nothing but his scent clinging to Harry. As he talked to the press, pushing his new album he tried to forget how Niall had nuzzled against his neck, and how small he was. Fuck, he hated Niall Horan.

xXx

He was calm, unnaturally so, as he stood outside, the joint handing loose in his fingers. He briefly wondered if he should be more discreet, but the after party was strictly private, or at least the balcony was – he knew that the paparazzi were lining the streets, waiting for the celebrities to leave the party, hoping for unflattering drunken shots. But even if they did snap him smoking, it wasn’t like it was unexpected, besides he could just shrug it off as a cigarette, the press would believe him; he was Harry Styles after all.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his tranquillity, and the stumbling drunken gate made him curse. He turned around, ready to tell the intruder to fuck off, but came face to face with Niall Goody-Two Shoes Horan, face ruddy with alcohol.

Harry had only left the party not long ago, hoping to escape the noxious music and rambunctious guests. He had frequented the bar simply lifting his finger to call for more drinks, but not once did he remember seeing the blond.

Niall leaned against the glass wall of the balcony, eyes more aware that his demeanour made him seem, as he reached over and plucked the joint from Harry’s fingers, taking a long puff with experienced ease. As he handed it back over, he allowed a superior smirk to cross his face.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers.”

Harry dropped the lit butt, squashing it out under his boot, not wanting to put it back in his mouth after Niall had, almost as though the joint had been tainted, it seemed less welcoming now, and he wasn’t sure why it was.

“Aren’t you worried that the paps or someone will see you, it could ruin your career if the public knew that you were completely innocent.”

Niall allowed himself to laugh freely, “Is that concern I detect in your voice. Harry, I’m Irish, I’ve been drinking since I could walk, and I know how to play the fame game more than you give me credit for.”

Harry snorted, “Bullshit, you wouldn’t have a clue about fame, you’re nothing more than another Bieber, having everything handed to him at too young an age without understanding the true extent of the industry. And now I’ve seen you drinking and doing drugs, you’re just one bad article away from ruin.”

Suddenly Niall was in his face, eyes flashing and Harry tried to ignore the way that the black frames sat against his pale skin, bringing those blue eyes into focus.

“That’s fucking bullshit. You don’t know jack about me so get off your fucking high horse Styles. I worked just as hard as you did to get here, I was bounced from audition to audition, I made my living on the street busking with just a guitar, I left high school despite my teachers saying I had so much potential, just so I could throw everything I had into music. I approached managers, I sent mix tapes to radio stations, I turned up to record companies and sung acapella hoping to be noticed. I had nothing, I was going to die on the street with nothing but the clothes on my back and music for this dream before I got my break, so don’t you fucking say I don’t deserve it.”

Niall’s palms fell flat against Harry’s chest, the liquor on his breath acting like a truth serum, causing every little secret hidden in the golden boy’s past to slip through his lips.

His fingers curled, and he pulled Harry closer, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “At least I don’t need to be fucking some drunk whore just to get the inspiration to write a song.”

The fingers unfurled and Harry felt himself stagger, as Niall stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

xXx

Harry stared at the blank pages in front of him, finger’s drifting aimlessly along the strings, searching for the chords that he couldn’t find. The record company had insisted on a few more songs for his album, even pushing a couple samples from other artists towards him, but Harry had simply pushed them back, stating he didn’t want to ruin his integrity as an artist by taking other writer’s cast offs. It didn’t help that he saw Niall’s name written under the first lyric sheet. He knew then that the record company had lost the plot, and that he would have to write his own song as soon as possible before they gave him no choice.

But he couldn’t find the inspiration or the melody. He was slightly buzzed, the beer next to him slowly going hot as he sipped it, but that was all. He hadn’t had sex since the day of the premiere when he had snuck out of that red head’s hotel room, and he hadn’t taken any drugs since… Niall.

Everything came back to Niall, and Harry couldn’t stop thinking about him. Everything had changed, the Irish boy was no longer the image that Harry had furled abuse it, he was deeper, and much darker, and now he was all Harry could think about. He felt a flash of pity for the other boy, having to constantly wear a mask to meet the public’s perceptions of you would be exhausting, and yet he let his true self be seen around Harry. Not to mention how good he looked in those glasses. Fuck.

The guitar hit the ground in a clatter, the varnish chipping slightly but not breaking as Harry tried to stop his hands trembling with the suppressed emotions. One night, that’s all it had taken for Niall fucking Horan to ruin in, to take Harry’s hatred and contaminate it. Why couldn’t he hate him, why did that Irish bastard have to make him question everything.

Glancing at the clock, he saw the time, and grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, ready to hit the club and forget everything.

The alcohol tasted bitter on his tongue as the club pulsed with beats, bodies grinding together in the humid atmosphere. Harry found himself twirling the hair of a small blond, her blue eyes glazed as he pulled her towards the toilets. The cubicle was empty as their lips collided, and Harry blindly noted that her lips tasted like cinnamon.

Her fingers fumbled at his fly, as she pawed at his penis, giggling drunkenly at the knowledge that she was about to blow Harry Styles. Her lip gloss was smeared across her cheeks, and eyeliner smudged with sweat, as Harry slipped his hand under her top, slowing caressing her stomach and unclasping her bra.

He opened his hooded eyes, and froze. The girl was gone, replaced by Niall, his eyes full of lust, neck riddled with hickies to mark him as Harry’s. Harry felt his large hand gently stroke his cock, a moan slipping from his fingers as he knees trembled. Harry’s hands threaded the short locks, pulling the other boys head down. He could feel the air from the bathroom on his exposed penis, but soon it was covered in a moist warmth as Niall took it in his mouth, tongue gently massaging, fingers pressing into Harry’s hips, leaving a dainty string of bruises.

And then the image blurred, and the girl was back, her hair a shade to blond and her eyes the wrong blue.

xXx

His fingers traced the piano, as the flurry of rehearsal around him went unheeded. He had written the song, and management had insisted on it being his first single from the new album, so here he was warming up for the award show later that night.

He tried to forget why he wrote the song, and just who would be in the audience, listening.

Time passed to fast, and suddenly the stage crew was replaced with cameras and an expectant audience, and Harry was barely aware of the voice that slipped from his lips.

_You hold the key, to the secrets you hide deep_

_But you shut the door, let them believe the lies_

_Why did you have to come and shatter my reality?_

_Why is your face now the only one I can see?_

_All these illusions and all these games_

_All in the name of the price of fame_

_But is it really worth losing your identity_

_For all these illusions and all these games_

The piano chords carried around the arena, his voice melodic and different from his usual indie rock, the emotion behind each lyric captivating the audience, so that no one noticed when Niall Horan stood up and left without even a second glance.

xXx

“I guess you can write songs without drugs, alcohol or whores being your inspiration.”

The voice was soft, floating from the dark corner of Harry’s dressing room.

“No you were right the first time that one came to me after being blown by some blond whore.”

Harry flipped the switch on, revealing Niall sitting on his couch, knee drawn to his chest and cheek resting in the palm of his hand. When he looked up, his blue eyes were too bright, and the smudged tears on his face hid little of what he had been doing.

“You know you’re the reason I made it. I was singing one of your songs when I finally got noticed, you inspired me to keep going because I figured if you, just some other teenager like me, could make it, then so could I. I never stopped trying to impress you, but you kept cutting me down, and I slowly came to resent you. But how can I… you just…”

Harry sat next to Niall, pulling the smaller blond into a hug. They had never given each other a change, misdirection, rumours, management, everything had aligned to make them hate each other, and it wasn’t until both had revealed too much of their heart that they could really see behind all the illusions.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, in the silence, but it was comfortable, an entire conversation without saying a word.

“I promise  you I don’t have herpes.”

Niall let out a cracked giggle, that gave way to a laugh, and soon they were both smiling at each other so hard, that just meeting each other eyes made them laugh all over again.

“I know you don’t, it was the only thing I could think off on the spot.”

The silence lapsed again, and Harry began to lazily draw circles onto Niall’s back, his eyes growing heavy as his heart beat in time with Niall slow laboured breaths and they both fell asleep.

xXx

The next year, at the same awards show, it was a different story. Niall stood on the stage, ready to shatter his illusions, show the truth and was ready to take the backlash that was sure to come from the loss of his innocence.

His fingers twitched, reaching out blindly as the chorus reached its crescendo, and the Harry was there, holding his fingers tight, and harmonising the notes of the song they wrote together.

The kiss that happened next was the next day’s headline, the feud crashing down into sexual tension and a live announcement of musics most secret relationship.


End file.
